with Madame Lefevre, a
Parisian. The lady mistrusted my accent when I spoke French to her, and
asked me where I was born; but she seemed to like me for all that, and I
stayed with her until she was taken ill and was ordered to the baths at
Aix-la-Chapelle for cure. She did not get well, poor lady, and before
long I was left in the strange city alone. I had the name of being very
quiet, but I was not so by nature. You see I forced myself to speak only
in French or broken English, and it was not always easy. At last I saw
in a newspaper that a lady in Aix wanted a French maid to go with her to
America. Here was my chance. Why, Mr. Donald, if you'll believe me, I
wasn't sure but that if I went I'd in time be the bride of the President
of America himself! You needn't laugh. Many's the silly girl--yes, and
boy, too, for that matter--who gets ridiculous notions from reading
romantic books. Well, I answered the advertisement, and then, sir, I
became your mother's maid. By this time my French was so good that she
might not have found me out; but she was so lovely, so sweet, and sharp
withal, that I one day told her the whole truth, and it ended in my
writing a letter home by her advice, sending my parents fifty francs,
asking their forgiveness, begging them to consent to my going to America
with my new lady, and telling them that I would send presents home to
them as often as I could. When the answer came, with love from my
mother, and signed 'your affectionate and forgiving father, John Luff,'
I laughed and cried with joy, and forgot that I was a Normandy _bonne_.
And a _bonne_ I was in earnest, for my lady had the prettiest pair of
twins any one could imagine, if I do say it to your face, and such
lovely embroidered dresses, more than a yard long, the sleeves tied with
the sweetest little ribbon bows--"

Here Donald interrupted the narrative: "What color were they, please?"
he asked, at the same time taking out his note-book.

"Pink and blue," was the prompt reply. "Always blue on the boy and pink
on the girl; my lady's orders were very strict on that point."

"Did--did the other baby--little Delia, you know--wear pink bows?"

"Not she; never anything but white, for her mamma insisted that white
was the only thing for a baby."

"What about their hair?" Donald asked, still holding his note-book and
looking at this item: "_Girl's hair, yellow, soft, and curly. Boy's
hair, pale-brown, very scanty._"

"Their hair? Let me se